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 As they were about to start away, the head of the family took from his pocket a handfull of odd silver pieces, and extending it to his guests, told them it was all he had, but they were welcome to half of it! Remembering that he had a wife and three or four children to feed, the soldiers smiled through their teats at his, bade him keep it all and “weep for himself rather than for them.” So saying, they departed, and at sundown were at the farmer's house, fourteen miles away. Monday morning, the 17th, they “beat their swords” (muskets in this case) into plow-shares and did the first day's work of the sixty which the simple farmer secured at a cost to himself of about half rations for two men. Behold the gratitude of a people! Where grow now the shrubs which of old bore leaves and twigs for garlands? The brave live! are the fair dead? Shall time or calamity, downfall or ruin annihilate sacrifice or hatch an ingrate brood?
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